Free EPK builder
An EPK is the thing a booker opens before deciding whether you’re worth a reply. Most bands either don’t have one, or have a PDF from three years ago with a dead link in it.
This builds one in your browser. Fill in the form, watch it come together on the right, then take away a PDF you can email and a web page you can put on your own site. No signup, nothing to cancel.
Free tool · Search Miners
A press kit bookers actually read
Fill it in on the left, watch it build itself on the right, walk away with a PDF and a web page you own outright.
The PDF works everywhere and is the one to email. The web version is a single file that turns into a real page on your own site, and we’ll show you what to do with it.
A PDF is a start. A page is better.
Every time you email a PDF you’re hoping it gets opened, kept, and found again six months later. A press kit that lives on your own domain gets indexed, gets found when someone searches your name, and updates in one place when the tour changes.
Where should we send it?
We’ll email you a copy so it isn’t stuck on one laptop. That’s the only thing we use it for.
No list-selling, no drip sequence you can’t get out of. Unsubscribe whenever.
What actually goes in an EPK
Seven things, roughly in the order people look for them.
A one-line hook that tells someone what you sound like. Not your bio. One sentence, and if you don’t write it, the promoter will write a worse one for you.
A short bio. Two or three sentences, third person, ready to be copied straight into a listing. Write it so nobody needs to edit it and you’ll get quoted accurately.
Numbers. Monthly listeners, mailing list, the size of rooms you’re playing, shows in the last year. Whichever of those are real. Anyone deciding whether to book you can check most of them in about a minute, so there’s no upside in rounding up.
Proof. Press quotes with the outlet named, supports, festivals, rooms you’ve sold out.
Links to your music that go somewhere they can actually listen. Not a Linktree, not a Dropbox folder that asks them to sign in.
Upcoming dates, because that’s what tells someone you’re active, which is usually the real question behind whether they’ll write back.
Contact details. Named, working email, split by booking, management and press if those are different people. It’s the most commonly missing piece and it costs bands more than anything else on this list.
What to leave out
Full lyrics. Your whole discography with track listings. Every photo you own. Nine hundred words about how you all met. Individual members’ influences. Your rider, unless it’s a separate download further down the page.
You’re not building an archive. You’re competing with forty other emails in the same inbox.
What a good one
looks like
It fits on one screen before anyone scrolls.
Name, genre, where you’re from, and the hook all visible straight away. Everything else supports those. If somebody has to hunt for what you sound like or how to reach you, it doesn’t matter how good it looks.
One page, sometimes two. Longer than that and you’ve stopped pitching and started explaining.
The other thing good ones have in common is that they’re current. A press kit listing a tour that ended eight months ago tells a booker more than anything written in it does.
Where bands lose people
Most press kits fail on the writing, not the design.
None of it means anything. Everybody says it. The person reading has seen those exact words in the last four emails they opened and their eyes slide right off the page.
What lands instead is anything specific enough that it could only be about you. You wrote the record in a rented house in the desert. Your singer changed how they write after something happened. The new songs are slower and you’re nervous about it. You played 61 shows this year and the last twelve sold out. Any of that is worth more than three paragraphs of adjectives, because it’s information rather than atmosphere.
And bands bury the ask. Contact email at the bottom, after the bio, after the discography, in a smaller font. Someone who wants to book you should find who to write to in about five seconds. Plenty of bands make it take thirty.
Here’s the pattern. A band sits down to describe themselves and reaches for the language every band in the genre already uses. Heaviest record we’ve made. Our most personal songs yet. A new direction. Raw, honest, uncompromising.
Same skill that makes a band’s newsletter get opened and their posts get shared. Being specific is how people connect to you. Genre language is how you sound like everyone else.
The other two ways press kits get lost are more mundane.
Attachments get stripped, blocked, or skipped. A promoter working off their phone at soundcheck is not downloading a 14MB PDF. If someone can’t open your press kit by tapping once, a percentage of the people you send it to never see it.
Why a page beats a PDF
A PDF only exists in the inbox you sent it to.
Every time you email one, you’re hoping it gets opened, saved somewhere findable, and located again six months later when somebody’s routing a tour. Usually one of those three things fails.
A press kit on your own domain gets indexed, so when a promoter searches your band name it comes up. You update it in one place when the tour changes instead of re-sending a file to everyone who already has the old version.
That’s why this tool gives you both. Use the PDF for emailing. Put the web version on your site.
If you don’t have a site to put it on, that’s the actual problem, and it’s the one we work on.